The Morrocan Roll Affair
by Vermilion Angel
Summary: Secret desert bases, bird watching and Napoleon Solo's first theory of hypothetical camel trading.


Disclaimer: Purely for fun and not for profit. I only own the gaps between the letters.

**Moroccan Roll**

There was a bustle of noise and colour as hundreds of bodies streamed around the souq. Napoleon wound through the crowd, dodging the persistent merchants and local people doing their weekly shop. A merchant in a red kaftan came up close until he almost touching and began trying to sell him silver bowls. Napoleon pushed them aside and moved away through the host. He hated everything. It was too hot, there were sand flies, people were all over him, and the sand got absolutely _everywhere_. All he really wanted was a cold shower and a warm woman. The market was not romantic, not exotic, it was hot and smelly and full of people who wanted his money. He wanted to keep his money. All of it. He fought his way through to the other side of the crowd and ducked down a shaded alley. He lent against a mud brick wall, and sighed, gazing up drying washing flapping above him and the blazing sky above. He pulled a communicator out of his pocket and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

"Open channel D"

"Channel D open, good afternoon Napoleon" the bright voice on the other end replied, all too bright in Napoleon's opinion

"Hello Veronica" He said, forcing good humour. "Is Illya around? I need to speak to him."

"He's in the building. I'll patch you straight through" she replied

"Thank you" He said. He watched the people flow past the end of the alleyway as waited for Illya to be roused. He was probably messing around in some lab somewhere, making something extremely dangerous. He would be very grumpy when he was disturbed… That brought a slight smile to Solo's face. His Russian partner would moan like hell when he heard what Napoleon had to say. A bigger grin eked its way across his face. It was not that he was malicious, it was just that he thought if he had to sweat it out in a hundred degree shade, Illya should at least be a little ticked off. Finally, Illya's voice came through the tiny, yet remarkably powerful, speaker on his communicator.

"Hello Napoleon"

"Hello tovarisch… don't sound so pleased to hear from me. It's only been, what, two weeks?"

"What do you want?" Illya replied. Yes, Solo thought, defiantly grumpy.

"What makes you think I want something?" He asked innocently

He could just about hear the gentle rush of air that signalled a sigh from his blond partner

"_You_ called _me_ Napoleon. How's Morocco?"

Now it was Napoleon's turn to sigh, "Hot."

"Sand everywhere?" Illya said amusement creeping into his voice.

"Hmmm"

Illya laughed, "Napoleon, if you just called to chat, I really am rather busy."

"Well, I have uncovered something rather interesting… I thought you might like to come here and check it out… well actually you don't really have a choice in the matter. So I should expect you this sometime tomorrow?" He waited for the inevitable sigh of resignation, but it didn't come.

"I'm sorry Napoleon, I'd love to help you. But I'm working on something very important here… Mr Waverly's direct orders." The tone suggested he wasn't sorry at all, and that was about the icing on the cake.

"What? Can't someone else do it?" Napoleon asked plaintively.

"Hmm, no. It doesn't appear so." Illya replied more the a little smugly.

"I believe I can actually _hear_ you smirking." Napoleon said sourly, "Are you sure you can't put it on hold?"

"Look, it'll only take me a few more weeks, if you can hold out there until then I can come out to meet you."

A few more weeks in the fly-infested pit they called a hotel? Not likely. "You made your point Illya, I'll see you when I get back."

"Goodbye Napoleon."

Napoleon closed up the communicator. What little good humour he had regained vanished and he made his way down the back alleys towards his hotel.

Perhaps if he could find some decent company the wait wouldn't be so bad. Then again… He walked in and got his key. At least it was cooler in his room, if only slightly, a ceiling fan wafted the warm air sluggishly and with little actual effect. He swatted another bug from his arm and collapsed onto the bed; he wanted to go home. There was air conditioning at home, and fine wine and a long list of beautiful women who would cut off their right arms to go out with him. There was conversation in a language he spoke at home. But, there wasn't a large enemy base at home. Well, not one that needed urgent de-commissioning at any rate. And if he was good, and he was, he could commandeer a little souvenir for his partner to play with. He laughed to himself, most people brought home hand painted pottery and hats from Morocco for their loved-ones, maybe a postcard book, not high-tensile steel shelled atomic scanners. Or whatever it was they said it was they had. Illya would undoubtedly tell him when he got it home.

'This' he imagined his partner telling him 'is a triple-shelled, titanium bi-carbonate hyper-toaster… it slices, it dices, and it has a removable crumb tray for easy cleaning… it's so powerful, it can lift a bowling ball' he laughed out loud at that, no, Illya would look at him and say in that dry tone 'It's an ergonomic capitulator' and expect him to know what one of those was. And Napoleon would say 'Ah, of course' and pretend he knew what one of those was. Probably Waverly would take one look at it and say 'Ah yes, an ergonomic capitulating device, I'd heard they had created a prototype, but I had no idea they had managed to make a working model' and later, Napoleon would quietly ask 'but what does it do?' to which Illya would reply 'it explodes your brain' or something equally nasty. Seemingly everything they dealt with killed you somehow, either directly or indirectly, and quite frankly Solo was sick of it. Why couldn't they capture machines that lulled people gently to sleep? Or made you orgasm, or something equally entertaining. He'd read one file where they had plugged someone into a machine that killed you with pleasure. Basically, it made you so… orgasmic was the only word he could think of, that you actually died. That seemed like much more fun. With a machine like that you may never leave the house. Then again, Illya would probably find a machine like that uncomfortable to be around, and would very likely blush. In fact, Napoleon considered, it would be just the sort of thing he would expect Illya to reveal as his next project, or maybe something he'd developed at university as a hobby. He could hear the conversation

'I've captured the orgasmatron'

'Oh?'

'Yes, it's really quite entertaining'

'I know, I built them at collage and sold them to fund my tuition fees'

Illya was full of quirky little surprises like that. He read odd journals, like _National Physicist_ and _The New American Journal Of Scientific Theory And Practice_. Napoleon had flicked through once, but the dry, humourless tone had board him rigid in minutes, and that was just the index. Perhaps he should take more of an interest, how else will he keep up to date with developments in hyper-toaster technology?

Napoleon rolled off the bed and stripped down to his underpants. The heat made him lethargic and unwilling to do anything. He really should be arraigning something with the Moroccan UNCLE office, ordering people about, that sort of thing, as if there was something for him to organise. At least if his partner had joined him there was a good chance of something exploding in the near future. He lay spread-eagled on the bed and contemplated the ceiling. It was no better or worse then other ceilings he'd experienced. He'd seen a lot of ceilings in his life, women's bedrooms, hotel rooms, hospitals, prison cells, all with a descending level of enjoyment. An interesting ceiling could be a blessing, he mused, but this particular ceiling held no surprises.

He stripped off his underwear and lay naked on top of the covers. It really was too hot to do anything useful. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep only to find it was too hot to even do that, so he got off the bed and padded into the small yellow bathroom. He ran the shower. Well, shower was being kind, it was more of a tepid drizzle. He stepped under the water and let it run down his hot skin. Frankly, even the luke-warm water felt better then the dry hotness of the Moroccan summer. After a few minutes he stepped out of the shower and shook most of the water off; he didn't bother to put on a towel as he walked back into the bedroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the bare wooden floor. The communicator on the side bleeped, and in a spontaneous burst of energy he leapt across the bed and snatched it up.

"Solo here"

"Napoleon" Illya's voice was tinny, meaning the reception was poor. "I have some interesting news for you"

"Oh yes?" Napoleon replied, _the new THRUSH weapon is the orgasmatron 5000,_ _and we want you to test it._ He added silently.

"Yes, we have picked up some THRUSH communications and it seems I will be joining you after all"

"Well, you know how I enjoy your company" Things were looking up and Napoleon smiled.

"Indeed. I'll be coming out there in four days..." Illya said with a hint of a smirk in his voice, "So you will have to… amuse yourself until then"

Napoleon's heart sank again "Four days?"

"Yes… although you will have to change accommodation. UNCLE have arranged a small villa on the outskirts of town, it's far less expensive, apparently, to rent a villa for a week then put you up in that hotel." Illya concluded, after he gave Napoleon the address he added, "You will probably have to do some shopping, but I know how you like to spend money…"

"And this villa, does it have a pool?" Napoleon asked hopefully

"Napoleon, this is a _very cheap_ villa. But there should be someone from the Moroccan office waiting for you with our equipment. The code is 'It's a little too hot for skiing' to which they will reply 'There is no ice in all Morocco'."

Napoleon groaned, "You know it just gets easier and easier to work those into conversation."

"Well you know UNCLE, always keen to come up with natty little witticisms." Illya said dryly "We have one here in R&D actually. Would you like to hear it?"

"Surprise me"

"The second floor data room has a new conversion system… Automatic Linier Electronic Conversion" he informed his partner "Or A-L-E-C. Now known as Smart ALEC."

"Those guys" Napoleon said sardonically "They just crack me up"

"Quite" Illya remarked "Oh, one other thing"

"Yes?"

"My initials"

"Your initials?" Napoleon sat on the edge of the bed, watching a fly lazily circle the ceiling light.

"I-N-K"

"Ah, yes. What about them?"

"There is a small group of section three agents who have been referring to me as 'Inky'"

Napoleon wasn't sure what to say about that. "I hope you haven't done anything drastic, Illya."

"I suppose that would depend on what you meant by 'drastic'"

Napoleon opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of underpants "Well, you haven't broken anything, I hope"

"I am not a barbarian, Napoleon" Illya replied, "but I'm assured I will never be referred to in that way again"

"Well, as long as you sorted it out without too much blood tovarisch, I'll consider the matter closed"

"Blood? I am an expert, Napoleon." Illya replied. Although he sounded serious, Napoleon could almost see the nonchalant eyebrow raised in a teasing manner.

"Of course you are, count Dracula, any other news while I have been away?"

"Nothing of note" Illya replied "I have to get back to work if I'm to finish in four days, so long Napoleon"

"If there's anyone who can fit a few weeks work into four days, it's you. I'll call later tonight when I've settled in to the new place," Napoleon informed him "bye-bye" He turned off the communicator. _At last!_ Napoleon silently rejoiced _something to do_. Happily he put on some clothes and combed his hair before dumping all his possessions into his suitcase. He checked the room for small items that may have inadvertently fallen out and discovered one of his cufflinks under the bed.

The reception of his hotel was no less seedy and run down then the rest of it. He walked up to the front desk.

"I'd like a taxi please" he told the grizzled receptionist. The man grinned toothlessly and picked up a phone. "Name's Solo. I'll be in the bar" He walked through the archway leading into the small bar-area. He ordered a martini with ice. Being an international spy, he did consider for a moment asking for it to be shaken and not stirred, but decided not to in case it sounded cheesy. He really preferred it stirred anyway. He lent against the bar with his drink and surveyed the few other patrons. There was a grey-haired old lady sipping some ghastly orange creation, it looked more like a fruit salad then a drink, she was also dressed in utterly unsuitable attire for the climate, a voluminous black dress that looked like something out of the Victorian era, while pointlessly wafting herself with a lace fan. She wore a large hat that shaded her eyes and some frameless glasses that perched precariously on her hooked nose. She was speaking to an ever-so-slightly younger looking gentleman with a white moustache that curled at the ends. He was dressed very smartly, and again, entirely improperly for the heat. Solo himself was wearing a pair of light trousers and a light, short-sleeved shirt. The mature gentleman was wearing what seemed like a dress suit with cravat. Napoleon wondered why the two geriatrics hadn't melted yet. For some reason, he expected both to be English, so it was a somewhat surprise when the lady raised her voice to ask for another drink in a German accent.

He turned his attention from the old couple and scanned the other patrons, there was a man similarly attired to himself with a briefcase at his feet, slumped dejectedly over what looked like a scotch on the rocks. The man had a tired-looking hat in one had which he was fanning himself with. Some kind of foreign businessman, Solo concluded, or maybe even another spy, god knows, there seemed to be enough of them. The only other customer was a middle-aged woman drinking a tall glass of something blue. She had her long brown hair tied back into a severe bun. Her dress was light and airy, yet it seemed at odds with her posture, which was defensive at best.

"Taxi for Mr Solo!" Came a shout from the end of the bar

Solo got up and collected his luggage, following the taxi-driver to his battered vehicle. Dumping his suitcase in the boot he clambered in the back of the taxi, handing the driver a sheet of paper "Take me to this address"

The driver read it and handed back the paper. He started the old car and they jerkily set off. As they trundled across the dusty roads, Napoleon took the time to enjoy the scenery. Despite earlier misgivings, Morocco really was a wonderful country. One only had to take a step back from the heart of the melee to appreciate it.

It took them forty minutes to reach their destination, and Napoleon stepped out of the stuffy cab and handed the driver some money. He watched the old cab retreat in a cloud of dust and smoke and turned to what would be his new home for four days. It was a two-story building with mud-coloured walls and red roof tiles, a typical villa, really. There was a man leaning casually on the wall, smoking. He waved to Solo as he approached.

"It's… a little too hot for skiing, don't you think?"

The man grinned, "There is no ice in all of Morocco. Welcome, Mr Solo"

"Thank you"

"We've swept the place for bugs, and moved in your equipment. There's food, enough for a month at least." He nodded east "And you can watch birds from your balcony"

"Thrilling," Solo sighed "And it's all set up?"

"Everything's ready for you Mr Solo, if you need anything else, just call our office. Happy hunting." He handed Solo the keys.

"Thank you" Solo sighed as the man wandered to where a small jeep was parked. He hopped in and sped away. Napoleon opened the screen and unlocked the front door. He dragged his suitcase in and swept the whole house for bugs, despite what the UNCLE man had said. Once he completed that, he looked in the kitchen and found it well stocked. The bedrooms were small but functional, as was the bathroom and the living room. The bedroom next to the balcony had been set up as an observation centre. Listening devices, recording devices, cameras, scanners and all sorts of other goodies. He set up his own belongings in the other room and went out onto the balcony with a pair of binoculars.

There was a long dirt track leading to a clutch of industrial-type buildings surrounded by a wire fence. To one side was a group of cliffs, then on the other a steep slope up into the hills where half a dozen villas were situated, including Napoleon's. He scanned round to the other villas. All very similar; small, functional places. The one immediately next door seemed empty, as on the other side. Further down the hill on the southern side there seemed to be life. The villa was larger and sported a pool; a woman emerged from the screen doors at the back and walked out to one of the sunloungers. She was wearing a brightly coloured sarong, a bikini top and a huge pair of sunglasses. She dropped the sarong to the floor, then took of her top. Napoleon took the binoculars away from his eyes. He really shouldn't be prying on beautiful women in their own back yards. He had a hornet's nest to be watching on the other side. He continued to stare at the villa below, binoculars dangling limply at his side. Finally, gallantry won out and he deliberately turned towards the THRUSH base and studied it with his binoculars. For all of three minutes.

He was lying on the bare tiles next to the kitchen table, stripped to his underpants again. It had become unbearably hot at midday and he'd laid down on the stone slabs of the kitchen floor. The kitchen faced north, and therefore didn't receive any direct sunlight and so remained fairly cool. He'd been in the villa three days, and this strange ritual had become part of the routine. He wondered what Illya would say of he was here now. 'Shove over and give me some room on the floor' probably. The heat really was terrible, and the insects, the place was covered in creepy-crawlies, not that Solo minded all that much, better insect bugs then electronic ones. One positive aspect was that bird watching was at an all time high. The THRUSH base down the road was a little hive of activity during both daylight and nighttime. The woman in the villa below was taken to topless sunbathing in the mornings and nude swimming in the afternoons. And birds, real ones, went about their business in the spindly trees and bushes nearby, giving a wonderful choral performance at dawn and dusk.

On the fourth day, Napoleon was almost giddy with excitement. The prospect of actual human company was almost too much to take. He even made a special effort to clear up the spare room of the surveillance equipment so Illya would actually have a place to sleep; as it turned out, he was glad he did. At 8.00pm, there was a weary knock on the door. He opened it with flourish to find a very grubby, irritated and sleepy partner in the doorway. Napoleon opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a raised hand.

"_Don't_ talk to me" Illya said curtly and dumped his suitcase before wandering off to find the bathroom, slamming the door. Napoleon chuckled and shut the front door. He took Illya's suitcase up and left it on the bed in the other room and returned to the kitchen to make two cold drinks. He placed one on the table and kept the other in his hand.

Minutes later, Illya emerged from the bathroom, looking cleaner and more human, and slumped into a chair in the kitchen with a massive sigh. He eyed the drink, shot Napoleon a grateful look and downed it in one, slamming the glass back with a few heaving breaths. He let his head fall to the table with a 'thunk'.

Napoleon took away the empty glass and put his full one in its place. Illya shifted his head towards it slightly, with a muffled "thank you"

Napoleon fixed himself another drink and sat opposite the exhausted man "Let me guess, bad trip?" He asked lightly

Illya lifted his head from the table, seemingly confused "Where's my case?"

"I took it up to your room"

Illya relaxed again "Thank god, I thought I'd left it in Marrakech."

Napoleon raised his eyebrows "What were you doing in Marrakech?"

Illya rolled his eyes and took a sip of his second drink "Trying to get to Casablanca, to get the train to Safi"

Napoleon seemed puzzled "wouldn't it have been easier to get to Safi from Marrakech?"

"Infinitely," Illya replied tiredly, "But there was only a train to Casablanca… really Napoleon I don't want to talk about it"

"Alright tovarisch, as long as you're here safely" Napoleon said, "Where did you get the hat?"

Illya seemed perplexed for a moment, "Hat?"

"Hat… on your head… just how long have you been travelling?"

Illya placed his hand on his head and seemed surprised to find a fedora hat perched on top of it "Oh, my hat!" He said finally after examining the object like it'd fallen from the sky "I honestly don't know, but it keeps the sun off my head"

"Why don't you go have a rest Illya," Napoleon recommended with some concern for his friend's fatigue, "I'll make something to eat, what do you fancy?"

Illya looked blank. "Rest?"

Solo rolled his eyes and bodily-evicted Illya from the chair and herded him into his room. Illya flopped onto the bed and was asleep near instantaneously. Solo removed his partner's travelling boots, shut the curtains and left him to make some food. As he left the room he opened up his communicator.

"Open Channel D"

"Channel D open" came the reply

"Napoleon Solo here, reporting the safe arrival of Illya Kuryakin at the Villa."

"Illya Kuryakin has arrived safely at the villa," The voice confirmed, "It's about time, poor thing"

"Tell me, when did Illya leave this morning?" Napoleon asked

"He left last night at 6pm"

Napoleon winced in sympathy; no wonder Illya was so tired "Thank you control, Solo out."

Illya slept nearly 24 hours before he finally dragged himself awake. Looking more then slightly worse for wear, he found Napoleon sitting on his balcony watching the THRUSH base. He came and stood next to him, leaning on the railings and squinting in the harsh light.

"Good afternoon" Solo said cheerfully

"How long did I sleep?" Illya said in a sleep-roughened voice.

Napoleon made a show of looking at his watch, "Well, I'd say… 22 hours."

Illya rubbed his eyes and then the rest of his face. "Really?"

"Really. You hungry?"

The blond looked up with raised eyebrows

"Of course you're hungry" Napoleon said, getting up and casually regarding his friend. "Why don't you get cleaned up, it'll be ready by the time you come down"

To a man who had spent almost 24 hours travelling and another 22 hours sleeping, the simple dinner that Napoleon made was shear, unadulterated, bliss. He wolfed it down with abandon.

"When was the last time you ate?" Napoleon asked teasingly

Illya paused, fork hovering between the plate and his mouth "I had a bowl of rice in Marrakech" He informed his partner, shoving the forkful into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "I think"

"You think?"

"It was either there or Casablanca."

"I see." Napoleon picked up another piece of salad and popped it into his mouth

"Well, tell me everything." Illya said

"Everything?"

"Must you repeat everything I say?" Illya asked reproachfully, mopping up the last of the dressing with a piece of bread "About the base. The report on the transmissions is up in my suitcase"

"They've been moving things in, some of it looks like food, and some large crates. They don't seem to bothered about concealing their activities either." Solo replied, "They've got some big machine which they wheel out… I'll show you the pictures later."

"What does it look like?"

"Like…" Solo thought about it for a moment "like a lemon squeezer with wings."

"Sounds about right"

"Right for what?"

"For a Telsa pulse generator" Illya said. Then he waited

"Ah, of course" Solo replied

Illya snorted a laugh "don't give me that Napoleon. The likelihood of you knowing what a Telsa pulse generator is about the same as all those THRUSH down there coming to the door and surrendering"

Napoleon tried his best to look indignant "I do to"

"Oh?"

"It generates Telsa pulses,"

"Very clever Napoleon" Illya rolled his eyes "And what do those do?"

"Tesla was that guy with the seismic doohicky, wasn't he? A Russian."

"Yes…" Illya sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

Napoleon frowned, "Alright, so I don't know what a Tesla pulse is. Care to fill me in o wise and benevolent teacher?"

Illya shook his head slowly, "it's basically an EMP that disrupts electrical charges, the larger known examples have a range of about twenty feet, at best. We think THRUSH have one that could generate a pulse of about a mile."

"Knocking out security systems, blocking communications…" Solo mused

"Exactly."

"We better stop them then." Solo said, clearing the plates away. He smiled "You're on second watch"

"Joy" Illya said, "Then again, after a good sleep and an excellent dinner, I feel just about ready for anything"

"It's good to know I'm appreciated," Solo said, "I think one of us might have to go into town tomorrow for some fresh vegetables, too"

"I can go if you want," Illya said, pushing away from the table, "just don't be surprised if on my way back I end up in…" he threw up one hand "Uruguay"

"Well, if you're not back by sundown I'll send out the St Bernard… There's a jeep round the back, courtesy of the Moroccan UNCLE office."

"Hmm, handy," Illya commented, "been anywhere nice in it?"

"Not as yet, you can be the first to take it for a spin."

The Russian disappeared upstairs briefly and returned with a file. They spent the next hour going through all their information before Illya took the binoculars and took up a seat on the balcony, hat pulled down low on his brow and watched the base in the distance. Sometime later, Napoleon came and joined him.

"The girl in the villa down there keeps taking her clothes off," Illya casually remarked, gaze still fixed on the base.

"I noticed."

"Their security seems awfully lax" Illya continued

"I noticed that too. Cursory checks of the trucks, occasional guard patrols…"

"Either they are very confident, very naive, or they're hiding something terrible."

"I had considered that idea," Napoleon said, swatting Illya's arm to make the blond give up the binoculars, "what do you think?"

"Electrified fence? Underground complex? Invisible force-field?" Illya sighed, "guaranteed to be something difficult."

"Well, we wouldn't like your life to get boring."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I could settle quite nicely into a boring life."

"Who are you kidding?" Napoleon remarked, lowering the binoculars, "besides, you can't blow anything up if you lead a boring life"

Illya seemed to consider this, "In that case…" he laughed, "Do you think I'll get to blow that up?" He nodded towards the base.

"Probably, they've left us lots and lots of nice plastic explosive."

"Pink or beige?"

Napoleon rested his feet on the balcony rail "You know I can't remember, which do you prefer?"

"I'm not sure." Illya replied, similarly stretching out, "there's not a lot of difference"

"There must be some difference, or you wouldn't ask."

"There isn't. Apart from the colour… wait, listen," both men fell silent, "do you hear that?"

There was indeed a low humming noise that seemed to be making the windows rattle.

"What do you suppose it is?"

"Ten to one it's coming from that base."

Napoleon stood, "Well, it's getting dark, fancy a little night recon?"

"Don't mind if I change do you?" Illya said, following Napoleon back inside.

"By all means." He left Illya in his room and went back to his own.

The agents re-emerged a few moments later dressed all in black.

"Fancy us both choosing the same outfit." Napoleon clucked

Illya shook his head and headed down the slim staircase. They hope into the jeep and drove round to the cliffs beside the base; crawling to the edge they rappelled down the face and got as close as they could, using some of the large boulders as cover.

The humming was considerably louder near the base. There was also a rumbling beneath their feet and small rocks skittered along the ground.

"Napoleon?" Illya whispered into the blackness

"Right here." Solo whispered back

"There's a theory that if you calibrate a Telsa generator to just the right frequency it will stop the synaptic nerve impulses to your heart and brain"

"Lemme guess, that's bad."

"It's fatal"

"Has this theory ever been proved?"

"Not yet."

"Let's hope we don't find out." Napoleon shifted position so he was behind and slightly to the right of his partner. "You got the mouse?"

Something was placed in his hand; he flipped it over and pushed a switch, making a red light flash on and off. Napoleon put the small robot on the ground. It had a rubber casing to make it resemble a mouse, but was really nothing more then a small camera and microphone on wheels. Using a remote control he directed it along the dry, packed earth. It scooted quickly through the chain-link fence and into the shadow of a building.

"Let's get back to the villa," Illya suggested, "the mouse transmitter should still be in range."

Carefully they clambered back up the ropes and headed back to the villa where they set up the mouse console. The picture was grainy, but good enough to get a decent idea of what was going on. The mouse darted into a large building in the middle, and was confronted with a giant shoe. Napoleon steered it out of the way just in time, and they heard the THRUSH agent curse the apparent vermin. Napoleon managed to get it up a loose plank until it was on some support beams around the side. From there, the little camera gave a pretty good view of the warehouse below. There, in the centre, was the generator.

"It's not a terribly big one." Illya said, "I'd say at full power, that could have a range of a couple of miles"

"Big enough to cause some real problems." Napoleon replied, "Let's see what else they have."

Nothing spectacular was found, and Napoleon ran the robot behind some rocks and set the self-destruct mechanism.

"There's something funny going on," Solo sighed, "but I'll be damned if I know what"

"This _is_ THRUSH we're talking about." Illya reminded him, "Whatever they're involved in is 'funny'."

"Do you think it could be a trap?"

"Most probably." Illya replied, "we won't know until we spring it"

"That's the part I like the best," Solo commented sarcastically, "We'll probably be used as test subjects for that theory of yours."

Illya removed his boots and tossed them into a corner. Then he stretched out in the cool evening air on the balcony, watching the stars. Napoleon came out and took up the other chair, and they sat in companionable silence for a while, contemplating the heavens.

"Perhaps the machine is a decoy, and not a working model." Illya mused.

"It's possible."

They fell silent again. Napoleon shifted position "Are you going to tell me about your exciting journey then?"

"There was nothing exciting about it, just long… and hot… and slow. Oh, and I was almost sold for 13 camels in a market in Sidi Ifni"

"13? That seems a little steep," Solo replied lightly.

"You don't think I'm worth 13 camels?" Illya replied in a mock-injured tone.

"I'd have to barter them down obviously. Who tried to sell you?"

"I don't know. I managed to escape anyway… otherwise you probably would have had to come and buy me back."

"That would have been inconvenient… do you suppose camel traders take American express?"

"How many camels would you be willing to pay for me then?"

Napoleon considered the question; "I don't think I'd pay any camels for you."

Illya shifted his gaze from the sky to the shadowed figure of his friend "you wouldn't?"

"Well, I'm a secret agent aren't I? I'd go in there and bust you out… like usual."

"Oh," Illya remarked, "I see."

"Hypothetically speaking" Napoleon said "If we had a hypothetical camel trader part-time slaver who had bought you for 13 camels, and say I went to purchase you back with my hypothetical camels… assuming of course a hypothetical camel has the same value as a regular camel…" He looked over and found his partner sporting a perfectly blank expression. "Never mind."

Illya shrugged sheepishly. "It's late, my brain is tired."

"G'night Illya." Napoleon said, amused. "See you tomorrow"

Illya changed gear as he drove round another dusty bend in the bumpy road. He was driving casually fast, occasionally the car went high over a bump and squeaked as it came back down. He stopped in a space near a largish hotel and walked into the centre of town. He moved slowly as he could through the market, picking up all sorts of fresh produce. He packed it into the rucksack he was carrying and looked around the market some more. He then packed everything into the jeep and drove back to the villa. On his way back he passed a truck that had gone into the rut at the side of the road, spilling its cargo. Illya stopped and waved to the driver

"Hello! Are you alright there?" The driver looked up and wiped his brow, Illya stepped out of the jeep and walked over "Would you like a hand?"

The driver smiled "Could'ya? That'd be swell" His broad southern American accent caught Illya off guard slightly, but he quickly recovered and began helping him shift the crates back into the truck.

"You up in them villas?" The driver asked.

"Yes… I'm doing some painting." Illya lied smoothly.

"Ah, that's nice." The driver said, "Wish I had time fer that sorta stuff."

"What are you doing out here? It's a little off the beaten track."

"Got hired a few weeks ago to haul cargo from Agadir. I load 'em off the boat and take 'em down to the warehouses down in the valley."

One of the crates had broken open and its contents were spilling out. They were cigar-shaped silver devices about the size of a man's thumb packed in straw. Illya bent down to scoop them up and deposited them back in the broken crate; first pocketing one unobserved by the driver. Another crate had fallen open and revealed its cargo to be many small coils of wire. Illya also took one of those as he helped the driver heft the crate into the back of the truck. Cargo loaded, the driver pulled down the back and locked it. Using the jeep, both men managed to get the truck back on the road. The driver thanked him and drove off into the valley, and Illya examined his prizes. Making sure the silver object was not a tracking device, he got in the jeep and went back to the villa.

Illya opened the door and went inside, sighing as the cool air hit him. He dumped the shopping on the table and packed it into the kitchen before walking upstairs onto the balcony and glanced at his watch

"I didn't know she sunbathed this late"

Napoleon simply turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he handed Illya the binoculars

"Take a look at our THRUSH's nest"

"Goodness. They have been busy." He observed.

The whole place was crawling with guards. There were guard dogs, mobile turrets, and the fence seemed to be electrified.

"What happened?"

"While you were out they started unpacking this crap from the warehouses, it must have been stored underground."

"I assume you've reported?"

"You assume correctly, the Old Man wants us to hold back until backup arrives. We have no idea what we're dealing with."

Illya drew the silver device from his pocket and held it up, Napoleon took it and puzzled over it

"What's this?"

"I don't know… on my way back I came across one of the trucks that had shed its load. I helped the driver, an American, to load them back in. Two of the crates were broken, one packed with hundreds of those, and one with hundreds of these coils." He took out the coil and balanced it in the palm of his hand. Napoleon handed back the device and took up the binoculars again. He tracked a man in a lab-coat walking across the open space between buildings.

"Illya, do you think we could find you a lab-coat?" He asked speculatively

"They'd have one at the UNCLE office." Illya replied wearily "Napoleon…"

"Listen, this is the best idea I've ever had."

"I don't like it"

"You haven't even heard it!"

"I know you Napoleon, and I know your plans." Illya said, pointing a finger at his partner. "It had better be good"

Napoleon's grin returned, "Have I let you down yet?"

Illya was strolling purposefully across the gap between the buildings with a lab-coat and clipboard. It was a bold plan, but so far it was going well. Fortunately, the front guards didn't seem to be too heavy with brains and head let Illya walk right through. Two lab-techs walked from the other side of the compound, stopping at a panel but the door of the larger building and scanning the silver devices across the red light. The door clicked open and they were allowed in.

"Clever" Illya mumbled, taking his stolen device and doing the same. He stepped through the door into a cool white corridor. There was a woman with a clipboard coming the other way. She stopped and looked up, pushing her glasses back onto her nose

"Hi," she said wearily. She was also an American. "I haven't seen you before"

"I just arrived this morning." Illya said, effecting a nervous smile, "Nicholas Kovak, I'm the new lab tech."

"Oh." She broke into a smile and stretched out her hand, "welcome."

"I didn't realise security was so tight around here" he bluffed, fortunately she smiled.

"Yeah, don't I know it?" She rolled her eyes, "suddenly the whole place is locked down, can't even get a cup of coffee without a security check. I don't know what's got them so spooked…"

"Perhaps they're afraid of spies?" Illya laughed at his own 'joke', and she shrugged dismissively.

"I doubt it, this project is still in its infancy. We're no-where near ready to worry about that."

"I was told preliminary testing was about to start."

"Who told you that? Was that Green? That moron wouldn't know a seismic conductor if it bit him on the ass. We haven't even got the bugs worked out on the prototype yet!"

Illya grinned at her, "Well, as I say I'm a little new, I don't suppose you could tell me the way to the testing area?"

She grabbed his arm softly. "Sure, this way… did no-one give you a map?"

"I'm afraid not."

She dug around in her pockets and pulled out a ratty piece of paper. "Here, sorry, it's been in my pocket a while."

"No problem, thanks."

He was taken down in an elevator, he guessed about 200 feet, until they reached a huge room. Bits and pieces were being assembled in the middle using giant cranes. The THRUSH insignia was printed on all the boxes. She left in the elevator and he ducked behind a big pile of boxes to contact his partner.

"Napoleon, I'm inside… they have a massive underground cavern… they're building a giant seismic conductor. This thing could generate EMPs to a radius of… thousands of miles. We have to destroy this whole place… are you finished laying the charges?"

Napoleon sat behind a rock and pressed the lump of plastic onto the base

"I'm almost done Illya, I'll wait for your signal" He pushed in a wire and moved backwards, trailing the wire behind him "When this lot goes, it'll take half the cliff with it"

"There must be a generator room" Illya whispered "I'll plant some of the charges in there and some in here."

"Be careful," came the reply.

Illya packed the communicator away and pressed a small lump of plastic onto the crates, then stuck what looked like a straw in it. Then he darted out and went round with his clipboard. To all intents and purposes he seemed to be checking the equipment, but he was actually laying down enough explosive to flatten the Atlas Mountains. He checked his map and laid more charges in the large generator room. He casually went from room to room, appearing to check the equipment and laying down explosives where he saw fit. Eventually, the whole place was rigged to blow. He moved close to the emergency stairs and found the fire alarm. He got out his communicator

"Alright my friend… time to bring down the mountain" He whispered into it and waited.

There were three massive explosions in quick succession and the ground rumbled above him. A siren went off, and Illya pulled the fire alarm before running up the fire stairs. People were scurrying everywhere, Illya got to ground level and found the whole eastern side of the complex destroyed by the falling rocks. He checked his watch and flipped open the glass face, setting the hands to 12.00 and pushed the two buttons either side. There was a massive boom and a tremendous rumble beneath his feet as the charges were set off, setting of a chain of explosions which destroyed the labs below. Overhead, the sound of UNCLE helicopters carrying cleanup crews echoed in the valley between explosions. Illya shed the lab coat and clipboard and disappeared into the dust and debris behind the collapsed rocks. He had to take the long way out of the valley, and was met by a cheerful Napoleon and a jeep as UNCLE agents swarmed the devastated base and began arresting the THRUSH agents. Illya hopped up onto the bonnet of the jeep and watched the cleanup crew.

"You know, if they hadn't increased their security so dramatically, we probably never would have thought to look for their underground base"

"THRUSH aren't known for their brains" Napoleon replied "we would have got them eventually"

"It's nice to have an easy mission for a change." Illya said.

"We've been booked on a late flight, so we have two hours to kill." Napoleon informed him

Illya hopped off the bonnet "In that case, I think I'll have some of that food I bought today"

"Sounds like a plan to me"

They climbed in the jeep and drove off in a cloud of dust, the rumble of gunfire and explosions wafting through the air after them.

fin


End file.
